


Bittersweet

by washoveryou (orphan_account)



Category: Psych
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Attempt at Humor, Consensual Underage Sex, Crime Fighting, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Teen Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-08
Updated: 2015-02-08
Packaged: 2018-03-11 05:31:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3315977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/washoveryou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While on a date, Carlton and Shawn witness a murder. Or suicide. But it's a murder, Shawn's sure. It'll take him, along with the help of Carlton and friends (and the police, probably) to solve it. Adorable teenage love and lots of bickering and general ridiculousness ensue.</p><p>A.K.A.:<br/>High School Archetypes AU - Carlton Lassiter is “Shyish, Sexy Rich Kid” and Shawn Spencer is “Not-At-All-Shy, Sexy Rebel Kid”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bittersweet

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta'd, so any mistakes are mine. Feel free to let me know if I need to fix anything. Or give me general feedback. Y'all know the drill.
> 
> Thanks, guys!
> 
> I made a playlist for this fic. Before I wrote the fic. Here: http://8tracks.com/thewinchesterbros/bittersweet

It was nearing midnight when Shawn Spencer had driven up the driveway recklessly on his motorcycle, stopping just short of the shrubs. He set his helmet on the handle, admiring the way it gleaned in the summer moonlight.

The house--well, more like mansion, but Carlton hated the way that sounded--was Shawn’s favorite place in the world. He could drag in a keg or two and there would be no one close enough to stop him. He hadn’t done that, but he planned to at some point. Possibly throw a party. That’s when he’d get Carlton wasted and out of his comfort zone and his pants, all at once.

He thought he might skip the alcohol and just go for everything else. At least for tonight.

He knocked on the door, sliding past Dr. Lassiter to dodge his puff of cigar smoke. He may like everything dangerous, but he isn’t an idiot. (“You should never inhale something that does nothing but harm!” he retaliated in response to a few remarks Gus had made in his hesitancy about Shawn buying a motorcycle.)

”You are very late, Mr. Spencer.”

”I know, but I got off work late, and I had to help my dad with some police stuff. And it’s a Friday, give me a break.” Shawn sniffed, taking off his coat and tossing it on the coat rack, almost knocking it over.

”He’s been waiting for you.”

”Really? That’s so sweet. I should’ve brought him flowers or something.” Shawn beamed at Dr. Lassiter’s frightened look.

”You should have.”

Then Shawn looked frightened, and Dr. Lassiter, well— he smiled with his eyes.

Shawn made his way up to the third floor, where Carlton’s room was. It took up practically the entire floor, and was more like an apartment than a room. There was a tall wall full of wanted posters (the majority of which were ones Shawn had made. Those included a few of himself [western themed, one photoshopped with tattoos and piercings and another with even better hair, if possible], Jules, Gus, and their fathers looking like the most ridiculous convicts possible.)

His bed, always neatly made until Shawn arrived, sat beneath a painting of a gun. The gun was composed of an intricate floral pattern. The flowers were beautiful, dark purples, plums, and maroons. The leaves were this gorgeous shade of pale green and it looked like it was made a hundred years ago. Shawn had no idea why he loved it so much (maybe because it was so _like_ Carlton; what with the _gun_ being made of _flowers_ , of all things).

He opened the door to Carlton asleep on his laptop, which was opened to a National Geographic article about the Something War, probably. Or maybe it was porn, Shawn couldn’t be sure. _Or it’s both, at least to him_ , Shawn thought absently, suddenly bursting out laughing.

Carlton jolted awake, reaching for a gun he didn’t have.

”Too much gun-preparation courses this week?” Shawn snickered, flopping down on Carlton’s bed.

”They’re only on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, and if you leave again without remaking my bed I will drag you back in here by the ear before you’ve taken two steps toward your precious bike.”

Shawn lifted his head, uncrossing his arms to readjust and rest his twined fingers on his ribcage. “Don’t be a polynesian canoe, Lassieface.”

”I don’t even know what that is.”

”Neither do I. What’s got your panties in bunches, man?”

”You’re late.”

”Yeah, well, I got off work late and…”

”You had to help your dad with some police stuff?”

”Were you listening to me talk to your dad or have I used that excuse before?”

”The latter. In fact, I'm pretty sure you only use that excuse.”

”Well, I really mean it this time. The chief guy asked for me to come and help out!”

”Really?” Carlton asked, immediately enthralled. “What happened? Who did it? Who died? Did you solve it?”

”Murder; Ex-Boyfriend; Ex-Girlfriend; and, yes, of course!”

”How long did it take you?”

Shawn mulled it over, even though he knew exactly how long. “Ten minutes, but take away a few for dramatic pauses.”

”You should call me next time, so I can be there.”

”It’s not like you’ll be able to do anything. I doubt they’ll listen to you unless you whip out the old “ _I’m Dr. Lassiter’s son_ ” card.”

”That was one time and it kept us from being accused of robbery.”

”For which I am still eternally grateful,” Shawn sat up, watching Carlton’s eyes carefully.

“I’m assuming you want to get started now?” Carlton asked, reaching for his backpack. Shawn started, not realizing what he had meant and trying to will the furious shade of red from his cheeks. He had no idea he could be such a virgin about these things.

It wasn’t like he was uncomfortable with his sexuality or anything, that was virtually impossible. Carlton was just...different than everyone he’d been with. Or wanted to be with, for that matter.

”Uh, yeah. Get this over with.”

”I can’t believe you need tutoring.” Carlton blurted, looking like he didn't mean to say it.

”It’s been three years since you started tutoring me and you’re just now saying that?”

”I won’t lie, this isn’t the first I’ve thought about it, but it just really strikes me as odd, _especially_ now, that you need help learning.”

”I’m going to tell you a secret, okay?” Shawn said, sitting on the floor next to Carlton, who frowned but stopped looking through his bag to stare at him expectantly. “It’s not the learning part of being tutored that I need help with. Not like I did freshmen year. Now I’m just...passing the time.”

”You have straight A’s in your classes, don’t you?”

”More like straight C’s, but, essentially, yeah.”

”Why?”

”Because…” Shawn took a breath, not sure how to say it; not sure if he could. “Because I— I, you know, it’s because it’s...just, look, I…”

”Spit it out.”

”I like you, okay?”

Carlton narrowed his eyes. Shawn let out a breath of relief.

”The only other person I hang around with is Gus, and God do I love him, but one friend isn’t...it doesn’t...you know?” Shawn gestured with abandon.

”No, not really.”

”Can we just...Can you just teach me about quantum mechanics, please?”

”It’s quantum physics.”

”I’ve heard it both ways.”

”You really haven’t.”

It took three hours and twenty five minutes for Shawn to lose his focus and patience with the “ridiculous and tedious subject which had to have been created by Satan and my father.”

Carlton fell back onto his bed, where they had moved to at some point between lessons 2.5 and 3.3. Shawn suddenly knocked all of the books onto the floor, startling Carlton into rising to his elbows and glowering at Shawn.

Shawn jumped on top of Carlton, straddling his torso and quickly pressing his lips to Carlton’s before he could protest.

When Carlton kissed back, Shawn’s hands went from Carlton’s cheeks to his chest, pulling at the fabric of his Ramones t-shirt (the one Shawn gave him). Carlton’s hands rested hesitantly on Shawn’s back before the shorter teen pulled one up into his hair and the other lower until it rested on his ass. When he gave an involuntary roll of his hips, Shawn pulled back, breathing heavily in tandem with the glitter-eyes beneath him.

”I brought, uh, things. We should totally, you know— do it. Now. Please.”

”I—“ Shawn kissed him again, and this time Carlton seemed to give up, relaxing into the rhythm and letting Shawn shove his tongue down his throat, letting out short, desperate whimpers which spurred Shawn on.

Shawn crawled down Carlton’s body, undoing his pants and letting Carlton’s cock free from his underwear. “Holy shit, you’re so beautiful. And big. No offence, but I didn't expect...well, luxury.”

Carlton blushed, and then groaned as Shawn licked the head. giving his cock a few tender pumps with his hand.

”God, I wanna ride you so bad,” Shawn murmured, with feeling, taking Carlton's now much harder cock into his mouth, sucking and tonguing at the underside.

Carlton squirmed above him, panting and moaning and griping Shawn’s shoulders, afraid to touch. “Shawn, ah!”

”Pull my hair,” Shawn said huskily, pulling off to kiss his pretty cock up the shaft.

Carlton nodded, letting his right hand travel up Shawn’s neck and into his soft, short hair. fingers curling and uncurling unsteadily.

”Gonna make you scream, baby,” Shawn whispered into Carlton’s thigh, before sucking a bruise there and stroking Carlton a few times, eliciting the filthiest moans from him.

”This your first time?”

Carlton nodded.

”That is way sexier than I expected.” He wrapped his lips back around his thick cock, moving up and down quickly until Carlton thought he’d lose his voice from saying Shawn’s name so much.

”Off, I’m gonna—!”

Shawn laughed, and the sensation sent him over edge; coming down Shawn’s throat, who didn’t move until Carlton whimpered from the sensitivity.

”That was so hot,” Shawn said, breathing hard and palming himself. Carlton reached for him, trying to return the gesture, but Shawn slid off the bed and helped pull Carlton’s pants up and button them. “No need,” Shawn said, smirking at Carlton’s dejected frown.

”But, you didn’t—”

”Not in the mood for an orgasm.”

”Then why did you just?”

”Just what?” He said, holding back a smile.

”Do that.”

He laughed again, softer. “Because I needed to. Wanted to, even.”

”So that didn’t mean anything?”

”Not necessarily. I mean, it did to me, but if you don’t want it to, then…”

”No, no. I do. It did.” Carlton assured quickly, sitting up shakily and standing after a moment. Shawn walked over to him, wiping the sweat from his forehead and kissing him lightly. “Can you stay the night?” He asked against soft lips, head tilted down. Shawn kissed him again, hands resting on Carlton’s stomach.

”Only if you promise we won’t go to sleep.”

 

\-- — — --

 

 _”Shawn, where the hell are you?”_ Henry yelled through Shawn’s flip-phone. Shawn lay sprawled out in Carlton’s bed, feeling groggy and exhausted. After recovering from the sadness not seeing Carlton anywhere made him feel, he looked at the clock and saw that it was almost noon. “Shawn!”

”Relax, dad,” Shawn mumbled, sitting up and rubbing at his eyes one at a time, then stretching out. “I’m with a...friend.”

_”A friend?”_

”Yes, a friend. We were up real late and I must’ve fallen asleep.”

_”Yeah, you must have. Where are you? I’m going to come get you.”_

”Uh, no thanks. My bike’s here, and I don’t feel like walking back to get it.”

_”How did you get your bike back?”_

”Well, Mr. Rodriguez said that if I promised never to drive down his street again, he would call off the whole thing and let me have it back. After some serious begging, of course, which was both humiliating and liberating. I should write a book about the enlightenment I recieved from sucumming to material pleasures.”

_”If you’re not home in an hour I’m going to call the police.”_

”You are the police.”

_”Exactly.”_

Shawn grimaced, and hung up with a short goodbye. He took a few deep breaths and looked longingly at the shower. He eventually stood and undressed as he made his way to it, tossing his clothes anywhere.

There was a towel set out for him, which he was grateful for. He took a short, hot shower, washed his hair with Carlton’s magical shampoo and literally-awesome-scented body soap.

He walked out with the towel wrapped around his head, and began putting on his underwear, making sure to turn it inside out first. He rummaged through Carlton’s drawers for socks and a t-shirt, which he found (not his socks, but it was his ACDC t-shirt from when he saw them live, folded all neat and smelling like Carlton).

He tugged on his jeans and frowned at the wet footprints all over the hardwood. He took his t-shirt from the day before and started wiping the floor.

Carlton entered his room, still in his pajamas, looking frazzled.

Shawn walked over, soaked shirt in hand, and dropped it in favor of kissing Carlton’s bitter expression sweet.

”Shawn, we shouldn’t…”

”What, now you’re having second thoughts?” Shawn shouldn’t have felt as hurt as he did saying those words.

”No, not— I don’t think it’s very smart to kiss me with my father standing in the doorway.”

”Oh.” Shawn stepped back, peering cautiously and snapping back when he met the burning eyes of Dr. Lassiter. “Worth it, though. That was a nice kiss.”

Carlton looked shocked, then let his expression soften as he whispered, “A little bit,” and winked.

”I’m assuming that I can no longer be here?” Shawn asked Carlton's father, keeping a smile on his face no matter how sick he felt.

”Uh, no. I would like you to stay, actually.”

”Are you kidding?”

”No.”

”Were you kidding then?”

”Yes.”

”Alright.” Shawn nodded, picking up his shirt again and dropping it back down. Carlton leaned down to get it the same time he did, and Shawn kissed him quickly, smirking at Carlton’s heavy blush. “That’s cute, Carly,” Shawn whispered, still bent over. “I should kiss you more often.”

”No! Well, yes please, but no— not...here.”

They straightened, and Shawn walked out, giving Carlton the “call me” hand signal behind Dr. Lassiter’s back.

 

\-- — — --

 

Shawn met up with Carlton on a saturday. It was one of the hottest days Santa Barbara had seen that summer, bordering on desert-worthy (though it was still dessert-worthy). Shawn wore a tight, white, Henley tee and jeans; and he chastised Carlton for wearing an argyle sweater with khaki shorts to the point where he gave up and let Shawn give him a t-shirt (which he had packed into his motorcycle specifically for this occasion) to wear instead. Even though the shorts were still unacceptable, Shawn knew Carlton would flood too much in his pants, let alone any of his shorts.

They got smoothies from a Jamba Juice and took a walk along the pier.

”We should go fishing sometime,” Carlton suggested, letting his empty hand brush Shawn’s. He wanted to hold Shawn’s hand so badly (and he hated anything remotely close to PDA). Shawn couldn’t help but smile, laughing giddily at the touch and beaming up at him. Carlton quickly gave him a weird look before staring back out toward the end, trying to look cool.

”I hate fishing. But I will gladly distract you while you fish!”

Carlton sighed, fingers bumping into Shawn’s again, lingering there.

”I’m going to tell you a secret: I can fish in my sleep. You couldn’t hinder my skills even if you—”

”Gave you a sick-ass lap dance to the sensual tones of Marvin Gaye?”

Carlton took a second to picture it. He cleared his throat. “Uh...no?”

”While stripping?”

”Th— That’s not fair.”

”Yes, it is! You just don’t want to admit that my sexual appeal is too much for your focusing abilities!” Carlton scoffed, sipping more of his "Peach Mango Cherry Chills" and smiling, unwillingly, at Shawn’s outrageously attractive grin. “Say, do you think we could just skip the whole “fishing” and “sometime” and just go for the rest right now?”

”Here?” He gestured to the pier, trying not to laugh and schooling his face skillfully.

”Sure.”

”Now?

”Sure. No time to waste!” Shawn reached for his shirt, and Carlton grabbed his wrists quickly, whispering curses. “There’s loads of guys with their shirts off, babe.”

Carlton ignored the nickname...or term of endearment— or whatever it was supposed to be. “They have muscles and stuff, though.” He returned dumbly, regretting it and stepping back, continuing on down the pier.

”Huh. Into that?”

”Well— No, not particularly. I don’t think it’s too terribly ugly, but…”

”Dude, it’s okay. I only eat Taco Bell and pineapples. I know who I am.”

”Doesn’t your father make you dinner all the time?”

”Yeah, and it’s awesome, but only when I’m there to eat it.”

Carlton knew Shawn didn’t spend all his free time at his home, but it was just that— his home. Carlton suddenly realized how little he knew about Shawn, even after three years.

”So, are we still on for that lapdance or—”

”Absolutely not.”

Awwww! Lassigrass, don’t be Paula Dean eating a dick made of butter.”

”Don’t ever say that to me. Or anyone. Ever again.”

”Yeah, I don’t know what I was thinking.” He knew exactly what he was thinking. Carlton looked at him like he knew that Shawn knew. That he knew. About the knowing.

Shawn looked away from Carlton to stare at the end of the pier, which was only a meter or two ahead. A man was walking hesitantly toward the edge, and Shawn could see him shaking. The man kept looking behind him, and when he turned to the left, Shawn saw something plasticy in his ear. Shawn jolted as the guy stood on the very edge, glancing down. The guy flinched, and Shawn dropped his smoothie, bolted, shouting. He came to a stop as he watched the water, nothing but bubbles floating up. He dived in, trying to open his eyes, but it burned too badly. Suddenly, he felt himself choking, and there were arms around him, pulling him to the surface.

 

\-- — — --

 

Shawn stalked up to his father, anger plastered onto his face and clothes still dripping. “They won’t listen to me! He was murdered. He was acting like a hostage and he had an earpiece.”

”Shawn, I don’t care right now. All that matters is you’re safe, okay?”

”He isn’t. Wasn’t. I’ll always be fine, dad.”

”I know you’re eager to get into police work, but—”

”I took the detective test three years ago! And I got a perfect score! If I cared, I’d be in there already. I’m serious about this.”

”Shawn, you took the exam?” Carlton asked hesitantly, still trying to dry off, and Shawn whipped around, shocked. “And got 100?”

”Uh, y-yeah. Didn’t I...tell you that?”

Carlton shook his head, pouting.

”Oh. Um. Well, it’s not important, really. I don’t want to be a cop anyway.”

Carlton’s eyes widened, and he become very angry. “How could you not want to be a cop? You’d be—”

”Perfect? Yeah, I know. I won’t spend the rest of my life doing something I hate just because I can.”

”I am really offended right now,” Carlton said, trying not to lash out at Shawn.

”You get used to it, kid.” Henry said, and Carlton looked to him.

”What the hell did you do to him to make him hate police work so much?” He growled, and Shawn wasn’t sure where to look.

”By making every second of my legit childhood exactly like a police academy, but worse.” Shawn muttered. Loudly.

”I— I don’t even...what the fuck?” Carlton snarled, not sure who he was asking.

”Carlton…” Shawn said softly, but he was already walking away from Shawn, hands in fists.

”That’s— That’s Carlton Lassiter?” Shawn nodded. “Dr. Lassiter’s son?” Shawn nodded again, lips twisted to one side in thought.

”Shanw, if you’re…”

”If I’m what?”

Henry closed his mouth, shaking his head. “Go home.”

”But!”

”I’ll say I also think it’s a murder, so you better tell me everything you’ve got.”

”Shaking very visibly—I was about two meters away—had an earpiece, kept looking around suspiciously, flinched like someone hit him in the head a few moments before he jumped.”

”And you’re sure?”

”Absolutely.”

”Even though I can think of a reason each of those could possibly not be murder, you’re sure?”

”Crystal.” Shawn paused. “Wait, no. Um. Perfectly— No. Uh.”

”I get it. Now go.” Henry nodded away from the pier, and Shawn sulked away, too dejected to shove it up authority’s and loiter until he could fit his word in.


End file.
